Boys of Summer
by Svenja The Strange
Summary: There has always been more between Robb and Jon than simple brotherly love. But how can these feelings persist when winter is coming? Rated M for later Chapters.
1. Boys Of Summer

~Boys of Summer~

Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own anything .

Note: This story was originally intended to be a Rob/OC story, but after reading two very inspiring Robb/Jon stories(Thank you, by the way, shrinkingxvioletx, I enjoy your Robb/Jon-Fiction so much and can't wait for the next chapter!), I kind of fell in love with the pairing. While writing, I had the TV-version of the characters in mind, because I like it that the guys are a bit older than in the books (plus Richard Madden and Kit Harrington are so hot! Who can blame a girl for picturing THEM in delicate situations together?).

Oh, and I apologize in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes! I'm from Germany, It's been a long time since I finished secondary high school and I don't take English courses at the University. So I'm a little out of practice! Nevertheless please feel free to criticize constructively! Thx.

Music I listened to while writing: Ataris – Boys of Summer

Chapter One: Boys of Summer

The thudding, hollow sound of three horses hoofs hitting the ground broke the quaint silence of the forest and troubled the hitherto peaceful stroll of a lonely fox prowling the woods to an extend that made the small animal quickly disappear into a nearby shrubbery. As the galloping drew nearer loud voices joined the noise of the hoofs, a particularly sonorous cry flushed a whole flock of birds, that had been chatting away mirthfully in the sun bathed branches of an old oak tree, only moments before one of the horses appeared around one of the corners. The rider, a young man clad in dark leather and cloth, had his head turned, prospecting for his followers while his shock of thick dark curls and his deep brown fur mantle were streaming in the wind. His horse reached a small clearing circled a group of knotted, gnarled trees and laughing melodiously with his head thrown back, the ride halted his horse. Moments later the second and third rider appeared on the clearing, also bringing their horses to a halt. Still grinning widely Robb Stark crossed his Arms before his chest and with his cool grey-blue eyes shot a lofty look back at the laggards.

"I told you so, Geyjoy. But you were so desperate to put me to the test. Here is your proof: There is no one in Winterfell who can cross these woods faster than me. Least of all a _shellback _like you!"

The last sentence was uttered with such obvious contempt and irony, that Theon Greyjoy, currently dismounting his horse, snorted disapprovingly. He rearranged his clothing and put a hand through his reddish blond hair in the attempt to stall some time to find an adequate answer.

"If you hadn't cheated and cut short the way on the edge of the forest you wouldn't have been here earlier." He sad lamely and rolled his heavy-lidded grey eyes in annoyance. It was difficult enough to handle that wherever they went girls and women would sigh dreamily at the appearance of Lord Eddard's oh-so-pretty sons but the constant trying to measure up to Robb and his bastard brother was starting to put quite a strain on Theons nerves. Jon had also dismounted his horse and was now stretching his legs after the challenging race along the rough and bumpy paths in the Wolfswood.

"You're such a bad looser, Greyjoy." He said flatly and walked over to a large rock to join his brother, who had seated himself in the warming beams of the summery midday sun, his fur mantle dropped to the ground carelessly. The summers in the North were still harsh and rainy but often enough there were relatively warm and fairly sunny days. Sitting so close to each other the resemblance between the two boys was just as obvious as the small but distinguishing differences. On top of the rock, his head thrown back and the face turned directly into the warming sunlight, sat Robb. His strong features , full lips and distinctive cheekbones looked a little smoothened by the radiant sunlight, his black curly hair and the thin beard revealed a red shimmer in the light. He was tall, broad chested and had the vibrant, vigorous appearance of the Stark men, with perhaps an ever so slightly less gloomy, grim disposition than his father Lord Eddard. Jon on the other hand, seemed to have inherited the full load of gloominess. Although his face resembled Robbs, his features looked a bit softer and longer, less dashing and demanding. He was a shade paler than his brother and his slightly too long curly hair was as ink black as the stubbly beard he had grown. Alltogether Jon, sitting on the ground leaning to the rock next to his half brother, looked a little more slender and delicate though his body too had been sculptured well by practicing sword fighting and archery.

Pushing away the urge to keep complaining about the unfair race and risk to get the pouts that would surely provoke mocking remarks from Robb, Theon also perched onto a sunny spot on the clearing. He had never been one for enjoying the beauties of nature, of the dark thick woods and rolling green landscape that stretched from the gates of Winterfell as far as the eyes could see. Theon could imagine the rustling of the wind in the tree tops and the rippling of little becks to be rather appealing sounds, given they sounded along to the bedding of the warm, inviting flesh of a willing maiden or at least to the consumption of a large pint of strong ale, but that was about where his deeper connection to these joys ended. Stark and Snow were different, he knew that. A look over to the other young men drew his attention. Robb had laid one of his strong hands on his half brothers head and, burying it deep in his curls, tousled his hair while smiling brightly. He then gave him an affectionate thump in the side.

" Savour the sun as long as it lasts. You're starting to look like a piece of unbaked bread." He teased. "No girl likes that!"

Jon smiled back at him with raised eyebrows and though Theon only very seldom shared the opinion of the bastard he understood the meaning of this look immediately and grunted to himself in approval. Snow had never been very good with girls and at times it had occurred to Theon that the lack of interest he had displayed in improving those skills was bordering on the suspicious. In his opinion more than mere shyness was the core issue. Surely lack of readiness on the female side could hardly be the problem for Snows thick shiny hair and his dark, intensely wistful eyes made pretty girls heads turn wherever he went. But there was something in that ostensively innocent gesture of brotherly love that Robb had bestowed on his bastard brother moments ago. It lingered a fraction to long, contained a hint to much tenderness. Theon had started to notice a while ago that, although the half brothers had been as good as inseparable ever since he could remember, there was something extraordinarily tender and intimate in their behavior towards each other. It had been noticeable in supposedly secret glances, unanticipated blushes in delicate touches barely visible to the eye of the beholder. But if you spend as much time with them as Theon did, you couldn't help but notice. And in time you learned to pay attention.

"Hey, Stark! Care to give me the chance to get even?" Theon interrupted the scene provokingly, deciding it was high time to break the peculiar tension. Whatever had been developing there the last month and years, he definitely didn't want to be a part of it. It seemed to take Robb a second to bring his attention to Theons challenge, who was beginning to feel, like increasingly often these days, like the third wheel.

"If you insist on learning the hard way…" Robb replied, smiling haughtily. He slapped Jon on the back. "Get up, Jon. You have to witness Greyjoys second glorious defeat, so he can't deny it later." He turned to Greyjoy. "And don't you get all ill-tempered! I want only cheerful people on the feast tonight for I intend to drink and laugh extensively. Who knows when the next occasion for a feast will arise."

While Robb and Jon got up from their resting place, Theon climbed on his horse. How could he have forgotten? The great feast in honour of the heir of Winterfells name day. Well, at least there would be an abundant dinner, plenty of ale and presumably several half drunk wenches. Enough to connive the sickeningly smug look on Lord Starks face and the sentimental sighs of Lady Stark while melting in pride over their noble son. He edged his horse to go forward, back on the way they had come.

"The race starts at the old Willow by the pond and ends at the gates of Winterfell?" he suggested Robb. "And no cheating this time." Theon added mumbling, not sure whether he wanted the other boys to hear it or not.

"The same applies to you, by the way!" Robbs words were not directed to Theon, but spoken in a low voice to Jon, while they also mounted their horses and rode back into the forest side by side. "No sulking. My mother knows I want you around tonight and not on a table in some sullen corner of the hall. You'll be by my side."

Jon smiled gratefully and gave a faint nod. Both boys turned their heads on the path ahead. "Where you belong." Robb added gently, then after a moment of silence. "Now, let's see to it that we put the prideful Lord Greyjoy in his place. May we never live to see the day on which a Greyjoy beats a Stark on a horseback!"

Note: So that's it. First Chapter. I'm excited to hear what you think, so please review!


	2. Wicked Game

Note: Thanks for the nice reviews. It wasn't intended at first, but I somehow started to choose a song as some kind of "soundtrack" for every Chapter (the song title is also the chapter title), because I think the mood and/or the lyrics fit the theme of the chapter. You might want to listen to them while, before or after reading. Or not. Anyway, here we go with chapter two, hope you like it!

Music: Wicked Game - HIM

Chapter Two: Wicked Game

Evening came and more and more people were gathering in the hall of Winterfell. Already gay music, jolly voices and the clatter of beer jugs, pots and pans were audible in the dimly lit yard as Jon Snow wandered from his chamber to the doors of the festival hall. Halfway across the yard a door opened and two giggling maids bursted into the silence of the night. Evidently they had already relished quite a few gulps of the strong northern ale that was usually served on festive occasions and were in a jovially impish mood.

"Hello Jon!" one of them smiled in a coquettish way. The other one giggled.

"Hello." Jon passed them with a casual twitch of the corner of his mouth but turned his attention back to the now open door where light and noise were pouring out. He heard one of the girls shout something about "them waiting for him all night" after him and the other shriek in protest but he didn't listen. Through the prattle of the guests he had made out Robbs ringing laughter and the sound acted like a call on Jon that cleared all the unimportant fears and inconsequential worries from his mind and drew him closer in an irresistible drift. It would not matter if he would be stabbed to death by the scornful glances of Lady Stark or if his bloodline would be mocked relentlessly by Theon and others. Tonight was all about _him_.

Coming in from the dim yard the candlelight blinded him for a moment, but as soon as his eyes had accustomed to the gleam of the countless candles, a scene of the splendor and nobility the Lords of Winterfell could display stretched before his eyes. He spied Robb at the big table reserved for the ruler of Winterfell and his family and noble guests and he caught Robbs sparkling eye immediately. He looked dashing and smug, having, like all the boys of the family, been ordered by their mother to get their hair cut and beard trimmed. One thing Jon had always liked in Robb was that he knew exactly how handsome he was and that his confidence showed. Tonight he appeared simply radiant with his combed back thick black hair and the fine beard, cheeks blushed from laughter and alcohol and his disarming smile revealing the pearl chain of white teeth. Their eyes locked for not more than a heartbeat in a gaze with a meaning that only the two of them could understand to the full while for the rest of the present company it was just a simple gesture between brothers. But Jon understood. Both of them had just always known. Known that there was more, that their feelings stretched way beyond the love of brothers and friends. There had never been a doubt for any of them, there had never been any questions left to answer. One day some years ago they had shared a look like this for the first time and they had both seen it in the others' eyes. But also they had both realized in the same instant what it meant and that it could never be more than just a secret share between exclusively them and that acting out these feelings was absolutely out of the question. They had never spoken about it. Only once they had been on the brink of giving in, their faces so close Jon had thought they might kiss any moment. But it hadn't happened and never again after that. So they had just gone back to brotherly displays of affection and no one had ever noticed anything.

Jon pushed through the crowd and made his way to the table where directly to Robbs right an empty chair was waiting for his arrival.

"You're late!" Robb called still grinning broadly. By the way his tongue lingered a tad too long on the beginning of the word "late" told Jon that the pint of beer standing on the table in front of Robb was not his first. It made Jon laugh and he sat down as well, watching Robb pouring him a big pint.

The general mood was outstanding. Everybody was in the best of spirits, even Lady Stark was too busy chatting away and laughing with her husband to feel disturbed by Jons presence. Jon did his best to catch up with Robbs level of drunkenness and then bravely kept up with Theon and him and soon all troubles were drowned in the sweet, warm taste of the ale. Robbs presence and his high spirits had quite an effect on Jon. It was intoxicating. Exhilarated and with red cheeks Jon felt a tingly feeling every time they touched and always the feeling seemed to linger, yes, even to travel through his body until settling as a soft pleasant warmth in his belly. His nose and lungs were filled with the sweet, slightly but pleasantly sweaty smell of Robbs body. And all too soon the hall began to empty while one after one the people hurried off to bed. Theon had left in what he had believed to be an unnoticed manner with two very drunken girls, who had been fighting for his attention all evening. Lord and Lady Stark also retreated to their chambers and it wasn't long until they were two of the last people present. Robb yawned hugely, looking a bit dazed.

"I think it's time to go to bed!" Jon said, yawning himself and trying a little surprised to keep balance after getting up a tad too abruptly. Robb also had problems while getting up from his chair and they both broke into laughter.

"Here comes the noble Lord Robb, heir to Winterfell. Unable to stand straight!" Robb shouted exuberantly and again both of them snickered. Somewhere on a nearby table a very drunk group of four or five men, who were still persistently continuing their drinking game until one of the participants would throw up or fall off the bench, broke into a slurring praise of the hard drinking future lord of Winterfell. They left the hall and crossed the yard on the way to their rooms and in the cool night air both of them sobered up a little. Robb sighed drowsily.

"Tonight was fun!" Jon smiled.

"I haven't felt this light-hearted in weeks, with all the talk of Wildlings and other things starting to stir north of the wall." Robb replied sincerely and they both fell silent for a while, standing in comfortable stillness delaying the inevitable parting for the night a few moments longer.

"Oh, before I forget. I have something I wanted to give to you." Jon fumbled with a small leather bag hanging from his belt with nervous fingers and pulled out a small piece of folded cloth. Robb took it looking surprised and curiously started to unfold the tiny package.

"It's nothing special. Just something I made myself…" muttered Jon in visible embarrassment. "You don't have to wear it if you don't like it. No problem."

"Are you kidding?" Robb appeared earnestly delighted. In the folds of the cloth a small object on a leather band had appeared. It was a tiny detailed wolfs head, according to the grain and colour carved from burl wood. It was an exact, finely manufactured rendition of the wolf in the Stark families' emblem. The leather band was attached by a rope sling so it could be worn as a pendant around the neck.

"_You_ made this. _For me_?"

"It's just… I, well, it wasn't that much work…" Jons helplessly mortified stutters were cut short by Robb silencing him with a powerful hug. After a moment of surprise, Jon buried his face into Robbs shoulder breathing in his scent deeply and bringing his hand up to his brothers back to push him even closer to his own body. He felt Robb breathe deeply and steadily then felt his moist and warm breath only inches away from his ear. The sensation knocked the breath out of his lungs and nearly made mid cough.

"It's _great_. Thank you!" Robb whispered, his full lips touching Jons sensitive earlobe and giving him shivers down his spine.

"You're welcome."

When they loosened they grip on each other, another gesture of Robb caught Jon by surprise and excited his by alcohol and the embrace already pleasantly confused body and mind even more. When their gazes locked in one of those meaningful unspoken conversations, Robb reached out to Jons face and laid a hand on his cheek. It was hot and sweaty yet the touch made Jons heart pound so hard in his chest, he feared Robb might hear it. They stood silent for a few moments staring into each others' eyes. But then Robb flashed Jon one of his broad, disarmingly beautiful smiles and the moment was gone.

"Good night, Snow."

"Sleep well." Replied Jon and they both went to their beds.

This night sleeping was near to impossible. After he had parted from Robb he lay there in the dark and watched the starry sky out of his open window. The cold draft could not cool the heat and desire in Jons body and it felt like it drove him to the brink of insanity. What was happening? All these years he had just managed to suppress everything he felt for Robb, managed to roll those thoughts, wishes and desires into a small knot that sat deep within his body, putting a constant but bearable pressure on his heart. Why was this knot beginning to disentangle, to wind around his heart and crush it with a force that had grown almost too hard to endure? It was happening to Robb too, Jon could tell from the way he had hugged him goodnight, from that infinitely tender caress of his cheek and the smouldering look in his blue eyes. They had been playing a wicked game these past years and now Jon felt, they were about to lose grasp on the rules. As he drifted into an uneasy, unsettling sleep he dreamed of Robb, standing on a high pedestal in the victorious pose of a great conqueror. Bare chested, he had his right arm stretched out, holding a sword and pointing it into the sky. A heavy golden crown adorned his head. But as Jon approached the pedestal, he discovered that fine drops of dark red blood were coming down from Robbs right hand and his crowned brow and that he appeared to be crying.

"It's heavy!" Jon could hear Robb groan and he realized that the weight of the sword and crown were crushing his brothers' bones. When he reached up to try and touch his feet, Jons fingertips started to blister and burn until he sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands, sobbing without restrain. Jon awoke confused, sticky with sweat and with a sick feeling in his stomach.

The old people in the north believed very intense dreams like this were prophetic, but Jon pushed that thought far away and tried to go back to sleep.


	3. Mourning Air

Note: So, Chapter three is up! I'm not all that happy with this one, but I really needed a good twist to push the boys a little. ;-) Here's what I came up with. Hope you like… Please review!

Music: Mourning Air – Portishead

Chapter Three: Mourning Air

Robb awoke the next morning feeling quite uncomfortable. Though the sky was covered with heavy grey clouds, the bright light of the early mid-morning hurt his sensitive eyes and his head buzzed with a dull pain. To wash away the sweat of the short night from his skin, he got up and wandered over to a washbowl in the corner of his room. As he bowed down, a barely noticeable weight around his neck reminded him of Jon and his gift and he froze in his movement to look at his reflection on the small pool of water before him. He decided he looked tired and pale but that the pendant dangling lightly on his skin at the point where his collarbones met improved his appearance immensely. Robb felt blood rushing into his face when he remembered the adorably bashful way Jon had tried to outplay his insecurity concerning the present and it made the headache disappear at once. The gift was perfect in a way that only Jon could have come up with because to Robb it felt like a symbol of their strong and extraordinary feelings for each other. It was delicate yet meaningful, it was easily overlooked or hidden under a layer of clothes but it would now and always be with Robb, reminding him of Jon wherever he went.

The air had cooled down markedly in contrast to the night before when Robb left his room to breathe the fresh air of this new day. Or perhaps it just felt like it to him, after all he had started to notice the frightening tendency to be unable to trust in his own feelings and actions when his half brother was around. His _half _brother. Robb pondered on how much this little word and this small difference from his relation to Bran or Rikkon had started to mean to him lately. But a half brother was a brother still and the fact that he hadn't regarded Jon as simply thus for quite some time now was troubling him hugely. The worst thing was that he knew it would never stop even if they got separated by time or space. Jon had recently voiced that he considered joining the Nights Watch and although this would certainly solve the problem of suppressing any actions that might give away their unbrotherly sentiments, Robb knew it would change nothing. The thought of Jon leaving was tearing up his heart and he couldn't think about it without a violent anger on the whole world welling up and coding up his throat. So he quickly tried to turn his thoughts to some other subject. After all, Jons decision was not yet final and the time for him to leave hat not yet come. There was no good in crying tears over events that might or might not lie in the future, Robb decided. Besides, he did not see why Jon would be so eager to take the black when he had a loving family, when he had _him_ here in Winterfell. Yes, Robb would be Lord of Winterfell one day himself when his father was gone and he would then have to take a wife and father at least one male heir, but they had lived in this mute acceptance for each others' feelings all these years now and they knew it could never be more than unspoken desires and promises read in the others' eyes. Robb didn't want to forsake all hope that they could live like this side by side for the rest of their lives. It was surely not what he wished for in his dreams, but at least he would be able to see him, hear his voice, smell his scent and feel the warmth of his brothers' body every day until he died. At the same time he knew it could never be like this. One day, and Robb could feel this day drawing nearer and nearer, the masks they were wearing would crumble and all inhibitions would go up in flames. His barriers were slowly but surely being crushed and the voice of reason in his head, telling him Jon and him could never be together was being overpowered by _something _that was stronger. He did not dare to think of the word, left alone speak it aloud. Robb reached for the pendant he had hid in the neckline of his dark leather jerkin and clasped it tightly until the tiny wooden spikes of the wolf heads' nose and ears bore into his palm. Here was another thing about this gift that symbolized their connection, _it hurt_.

By the time Robb had arrived at the hall where he supposed a late breakfast was still afoot his glum thoughts had dispelled all intentions of having breakfast. Eating deemed him a profane, shallow action in his situation and his stomach felt as if it was filled up with heavy gobbets of stone. Deciding to skip breakfast and get out of this bustling place where he could run into Jon every moment, just to have the already thin strain holding his reserve tear, he turned into the direction of the stables. Maybe a ride in the crisp morning air could clear his clouded mind even if it would certainly not lift the weight of confusing, improper feelings for the man that was his brother off his heart. Halfway over to the stables a voice stopped him.

"Stark!" he heard the ever so slightly disdainfully bored call of Theon Greyjoy. Why did his name always sound like an insult coming from this boys' mouth? Robb made a mental note to always remember that fact if the occasion should arise where he needed to rely on Theons friendship in a matter of life and death. When Robb turned around, he saw Theon casually leaning against the wooden handrail of the gallery that ringed the yard, a hint of mischief in his iron grey eyes.

About half an hour later Robb was desperately trying to reconstruct how on earth he had gone from clearing his head with a lonely ride through the quiet Wolfswood to agreeing to humour Theon by accompanying him on _this_. As they entered the small, dimly lit tent consisting of nothing but masses of colourful cloth he thought about where his ability to trust in his own actions and decisions had gone for the second time that day. All this thinking of Jon had obviously softened up his wits. Not feeling up to the kind of juvenile fun he sometimes indulged in with Theon, he hadn't been to keen from the beginning when Theon had told him about the wandering scryer who had pitched her tent along with other jugglers and shady people in front of the gates of Winterfell. Such folk was barely seen in the north especially in these rough times, now that the summer was declining an colder winds had started to blow from north of the wall. Furthermore Robb guessed his father wouldn't tolerate the presence of these people for long. The air in the tent was heavily perfumed with the smell of sweet exotic flowers and herbs and a fine haze hung under the roof, compared to the nippy late summer wind it was hot and dry.

"It's going to be fun!" Theon grinned excitedly as he pushed away the last cloth separating a kind of entry area from the main room revealing the view of a person dressed in varicoloured, glittery clothes crouching behind a table. "I saw them camping here on my way home from the whorehouse this morning. Must have pitched their tents over night. The old crow here pulled me in to tell me my fortune. It cost me a few coins, but it was worth it. You're going to love this!" he then turned to the person at the table and now that Theon had said it and with a little imagination he also could pick out remotely female forms and features through all the fabric and wrinkles.

"Ah!" said a thin, scratchy voice. "Come here, boy. Sit down."

Robb took a step into the tent but didn't sit.

"Lord Stark will not suffer you camping here long. The north does have no use for your superstitious witchery. Why have you come so far up here?" It sounded even more harsh than intended. His foul mood had gotten the better of him.

"Fate." The old sibyl replied mysteriously. Robb rolled his eyes. Then "I expected you!"

"I'm sure you did." Robb muttered under his breath.

"Because your friend told me he'd return and bring you along." The women chuckled creakingly and winked at him with beady black eyes. "Now, sit." For some reason Robb sat. A scrawny old hand reached out for his and pulled it to lie on the table between them. She turned it so that his palm was facing up and with her other hand lightly touched it. Robb was fairly sure she would start to talk of a beautiful woman, a glorious wedding, much wealth and fortune and glory. Instead what happened surprised and startled him, because suddenly the old witch clenched his hand with both of hers. When he looked up into her face it seemed stiff and twisted, her eyes strangely milky. A cold breeze blew in from behind Robb and the cloth and foulards of the tent fissled faintly.

"I see a wolf. It means a lot o you!" she said, her voice now dark and hollow.

"I'm sure you can do better than that. I bring you Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell and you tell him you see a wolf that's important to him?" Theon snorted.

"You carry it very near to your heart." She continued. Robb shifted uncomfortably and tried not to peer down his own body to see if he had tucked away the pendant in his shirt. Her grip on his hands tightened even more.

"You will lose a lot but gain… a cown? I see it clearly now! And I see betrayal." Was it in Robbs mind or had her eyes just flashed into Theons direction for a second?

"She didn't tell me anything about a crown!" Theon protested in mocked indignation. "Besides she had me pay before."

"Out!" The woman suddenly cried, startling even Theon who had tried to outplay the eerie atmosphere that had developed in the tent with his usual sarcastic scepticism. It was probably due to that fact that he actually stepped back and left the tent with an appalled look on his face. Robb tried to tell himself that this old woman was just an actress. Nothing but a weirdly dressed old hag, who had probably promised thousands of young men crowns and gold. It was her living to sell these lies as believable truths and she did quite a good job. Something in the way her voice had changed was giving Robb a prickly feeling in his neck. He didn't feel comfortable being alone with her. When she opened her eyes she looked sincerely sad and compassionate.

"My boy, I see a lot of pain ahead and a great weight lain on your shoulders. The lines on your hand predict a short life with few joys. Your heart line is long and distinctive, but I fear there are few happy days to come. Your wolf will leave you, he has already decided."

Robb smiled nervously and gulped down the lump that had been building in his throat. How could she know? Perhaps just a lucky guess. But why was she telling him all those bad things. Why would anyone pay to hear something like this? From what Theon had told him, to him her lies had been amusing and easily seen through, in no respect magical or prophetic but entertaining enough to be worth the money. Robb wanted to ask her why she told him those things. Even more he wished to ask what exactly she could see about Jon. It made him feel sad, angry and embarrassed that his heart believed her, although his mind told him it were all constructed stories and skillfully presented lies. Standing up abruptly he managed another smile.

"Thank you." He said stiffly and started to fumble on his belt for a few coins.

"That's alright, boy." The old witch replied mildly. "I never charge the delivery of such bad news to petty young boys like you. Keep the money."

Robb didn't know what to say, so he threw the coins on the table anyway and rushed out of the tent. He could feel the anger and confusion welling up in his chest, piling up to sobs that were threatening to break free. He marched past Theon, not even listening to his excited questioning. He could hear him shout "It was supposed to be fun! What did she say?" after him, but didn't even turn around. He needed to get away, away from everybody else. Somehow all the doubts about the truth of the old sibyls' words had been wiped from Robbs mind and he didn't care if he was a fool to believe. Only her last words and that heartbreakingly pitiful look in her eyes counted. _Your wolf will leave you, he has already decided._ What could the alleged crown he was to gain give him, if he wouldn't have Jon? He had never dreamed of becoming a king, he had always just wanted to be with him.

He didn't ask anyone to saddle up his horse for him, but did so himself in furious consternation about all he had heard. The sun was only a glimmering light on the horizon and the tents in front of Winterfells walls were already gone for about an hour when he came back, calm, grim and determined. What he had recognized during his long stroll through the woods was that the one thing he craved mostly besides Jon himself was total honesty even if he trembled at the prospect, even if he'd fall.


	4. It's a Fire

Note: O.k., I'm kind of starting to pick up the story of the TV show now but had to modify the order of events a little to fit to my ends a little better. So in my version they get the news of Jon Arryns death and the King riding north before the morning Ned beheads the deserter of the Nights Watch. This Chapter is a bit short, but I'm so excited to get to work on the next one, so I kind of rushed through this. Also I'm letting all the important stuff I need to do for my courses at University rot in their folders at the moment. :-D Hope you like it and please review!

Song: Portishead – It's a fire

It was a fire. Jon could see it blazing in Robbs blue eyes and he knew he was in a mood not to be taken lightly. Something had happened to him since they had parted for the night yesterday and Jon had no idea how to reply on the question his furious half-brother had barked harshly upon bustling into Jons room without notice. He had been here for the past few hours getting more and more worried when he hadn't been able to find Robb anywhere. Apparently he had been seen at least twice that day, but had spoken to no one but Theon whose sore mumbling about Robb being "unreasonably rude" and "leaving him standing" Jon couldn't interpret. Since his relationship with Theon had always been rather strained to say the least , he had thought it best to let it go and just wait for Robb to show up for dinner. When he hadn't, Jon had gone to his room worried and tried to sort out the few entirely black clothes from his possessions in the dim candlelight. _So, you've decided for good?_ The bitter tone of the question Robb had posed upon entering his room rang in his ears and Jon cursed himself a thousand times for speaking to his father openly without considering who might be standing within earshot. He didn't know and didn't care who had picked up the conversation and told Robb about Jons plan to join the Nights Watch as soon as Lord Stark would leave for Kings Landing, all he knew was that it had been the wrong person. On the other hand, he wouldn't have known how to break the news. Outwardly calm, Robb was leaning with crossed arms against the door he had closed behind him, a look of reserved interest on his face. But Jon knew him better, he could see behind this stern mask Bran liked to call Robbs "Lord face", an expression his brother had been bound to wear increasingly often in the last months, and Jon had a feeling that it would be even more so in the days to come. There was a raging fire inside Robb that the Lord face could only hide partly. To Jon Robbs eyes had always been an open book to read thoughts and feelings in and today what he saw frightened him.

"I'm sorry I haven't told you. I only spoke about it with father this afternoon. The king is riding north. Jon Arryn is dead." He said apologetically, trying to avoid direct answer to the question.

"So I heard." Robb said through clenched teeth, still trying not to let his anger show. "I just don't know what that has to do with you."

Jon sighed heavily. "Come on, Robb. We both know what that has to do with me." He was tired of playing this game and since the days until he would leave for good could be counted down on a few fingers now, the time for pretense and silence was over. It gave a chokingly painful sting in his chest when he realized that himself. "The king will ask father to be the new hand and when he leaves for Kings Landing you'll be what you were born to be: Lord of Winterfell. That's an honourable thing to be. But I was born to be a bastard and I don't want that to be my part for the rest of my life." His words didn't help to calm Robb, instead Jon could feel the tension in his half brothers body increasing as he closed his eyes and ran both his hands through his dark curls that were shimmering slightly auburn in the candlelight of the room.

"Your mother hates me! She has only suffered me here because father…"

"My mother won't be Lord of Winterfell! It will not be her decision to make!" this sudden burst of Robbs voice was accompanied by the sound of a fist being punched into a solid wooden door with all his force. When Robb lowered it, Jon could see a dent in the wood. On Robbs knuckles blood was beginning to seep through the scraped skin. He stood there with his back turned to Jon, his forehead leaning against the door and looked like all his anger had subsided and his body had gone limp. When he turned around his eyes were red rimmed and watery but his voice was calm and controlled.

"I don't want you to go."

"I'm not sure if I really want to myself." Jon admitted dolefully feeling relieved that the anger in Robb had found its way out without really hurting anyone but suddenly infinitely tired and sad. He flopped on his bed and buried his face in his hands.

"Then don't." Robb said passionately. His voice had regained a little of the fire that had been gleaming in his eyes before. "I could make you head of the Guard or…. There will be many posts to staff when father has chosen his men to follow him to Kings Landing." He sat down beside Jon on his bed, so close Jon could smell his sweet scent, overlain a little by the smell of wine. Had he been drinking to gather up courage?

"I'll still be your bastard brother who has gotten his post by your grace. It's not that I care so much what people will think, I might one day be able to prove my worth, but I will always be Jon Snow not Jon Stark. If I have learned one thing in my life then it is that a name always counts! I don't want to be the man seated on another table, because your high mother and noble company feel affronted by my presence."

"I would never…" Robb began, but Jon cut him off. By saying it he was starting to realize how much this meant to him and how true his words were. He didn't want to be interrupted,

"I know _you_ wouldn't. But everyone else. And no matter how many peoples' heads you chop off, I will never be fully accepted. In the Nights watch my name will mean nothing!" He paused to raise his head and meet the sorrowful gaze of Robbs eyes.

"I know." And with that Robb finally gave up his fight. He understood.

There was another thing Jon hadn't mentioned so far but had felt too afraid and ashamed to talk about. But what did it matter now? It was finally time that all the unuttered thoughts between them were spoken aloud.

"And what will be when you marry?" he said so quietly it was almost a whisper. "I don't think I would…" the words stuck in his throat. Robb helped him out. Shrugging he replied

"I don't have to. No one can make me!" He sounded like a stubborn child now, refusing to finish his soup.

"Robb." It was the almost compassionate protest that rendered any further discussion needless. They both knew Robb would have to take a wife and father an heir, there was no need to say anything more so they both fell silent, neither of them knowing where to go from this point. Desperately trying to ease the hopeless atmosphere or maybe trying to outplay that he was as near to tears as Jon himself, Robb fumbled out the small wolf pendant Jon had given him.

"At least I still have this!" he laughed nervously. "I need to find something equally great to remember me by to give to you!" There was another awkward pause, in which Robb bit down on his lip in contemplation while looking at Jons face, only inches apart from his now, in a strange way. Jon shifted in uncertain expectation. Everything they had been arguing about, all his confusion, his anger, his fears, his sadness were wiped away and his mind went blank, when he felt a light whiff and then the hot, moist and unspeakably soft lips of Robb touching his own in a tender caress that made a host of fireflies burst in his belly and run into every vein of his body. The tingling warmth spread into his fingertips, his toes his cheeks and even into his ears but especially started to gather quite pleasantly in his lower body. Only the fraction of a second was necessary for Jon to realize what was happening until he relaxed his own lips to let the relish of Robbs kiss wash over him. When they broke apart there was no more awkwardness, no shame or repentance. They looked each other deep in the eyes, smouldering luscious blue and burning, rich dark brown, and they both knew where this would lead to.

"Do you want me to go?" Robb asked huskily.

"No." Jon answered his voice thick with desire. It was a fire.


	5. Seven Devils

Note: So here it is what this has been boiling down to all these chapters. :-D It's the first sex scene I've ever written, so please be gentle with me. ;-))) Honestly, I feel a bit awkward posting this.

Music: Florence & The Machine – Seven Devils (can you imagine this song playing during a scene like this between Robb and Jon? I think it's the most epic song for a desperate love scene ever!)

Not being able to wait a second longer, Jon met Robb halfway across the room, when he turned around from locking the door. The first tender encounter of their lips had shattered every last barrier of Robbs retentiveness. The force of this second kiss surged against Jons lips so forcefully that he stumbled backwards a few steps. Robb, his hands still buried in Jons hair clasping the back of his head, gave him a startled look, whether because he was surprised about the strength of his own desire or because he feared Jon had stepped back purposely, Jon didn't know. He closed the gap between them again with one swift step forward that seemed to wipe away all possible concerns, and caught Robbs sensually parted lips in a breathtaking kiss. Jon had always imagined kissing Robb would be an erotically aggressive fight between lips, a battle for domination like the still innocent wrestles back when they had been but boys, but now he found it to be incomparable. It was much more tender and warm than he could ever have anticipated with much less demanding aggression or fleshly want and a thousand times more passionate love instead. Yes, _love_. If he had ever doubted that Robb was loving him as helplessly and hopelessly as he was loving him, these thoughts were now crushed to nothingness. And as they broke the kiss to clasp each other into an ardent embrace, faces pressing against necks, hands twisting into hair and arms interlocking behind backs Jon couldn't hold it much longer.

"I love you!" the words broke out of him, his voice a hoarse whisper. As he realized the truth of what he had just said and the shocking magnitude of its force tears filled his eyes and he buried them into Robbs muscular neck to hide them. "I love you so much." He couldn't help but repeat miserably. There it was. Out in the world, said aloud and with no possibility to ever unsay it.

Robbs body pushed against his, guiding him backwards until he felt the hard wood of the foot end of his bed against his legs and he yielded to the irresistible pressure that pushed him down, landing on his back. He was above Jon in an instant, straddling him and bringing his face down to his.

"Say that again!" he whispered

"I love you." Jon repeated devotedly and was answered with another breathtakingly deep and long kiss.

"I love you too." Robb murmured coarsely and pressed his forehead to Jons. For a few moments they just savoured the ardent looks of each others' eyes, but Jon could feel the effect of their passionate kissing literally growing on him where their lower bodies touched. When their lips met again Jon imagined he could actually taste the sweet flavor of absolute bliss on his brothers' lips. His _brother_, what did that mean to him now? They were just two shards of the same sword finally forged together again, two loose ends of a string tied to a knot and Jon knew that, if separated, they could never become whole again. It was this strange combination of total happiness and utter despair that again drove him to the brink of crying and he might have worried about how that might come across to Robb if he hadn't sensed that he felt the exact same thing. But the sensation of Robbs more experienced hands initiating a next stage of physical intimacy brought all his attention back to the more carnal part of their union. Jon was sure that this was not the first time Robb was doing something like this, although he doubted he had done it with another man before. His big, strong hands were slowly but firmly tugging Jons shirt out of his pants and shoving under it until they could touch the soft skin of his stomach and run through the light hair on Jons chest. He sucked in his breath sharply and bit on his lip when he felt a teasing tickle in that area. Hands were withdrawn and a rustling sound was followed by Robbs shirt hitting the ground beside the bed. Moments later the same eager hands helped him remove his own shirt and he used the breaking of skin contact to flip the surprised Robb over unexpectedly and take his place on top, which made him grin like a fool. The sensation of skin on skin aroused Jon to an extend that made him fear this experience might be over all too soon, but from the feeling of Robbs crutch against his he could tell he was just as excited. Jon lingered a little on Robbs neck, making sure he kissed every single inch of the delicate skin, trying to resist the urge to bury his teeth in the warm, salty tasting flesh. Then he slowly began to run his hands down on the sides of Robbs body and followed the movement with his lips, brushing over chest, ribs and belly with light kisses. He lingered a little around the bellybutton with the tip of his tongue and Robb responded with short, quickened breathing and a little arching of his lower back. Obviously Jon was doing well. When he went even farther down, breathing softly on the spot where the seam of Robbs trousers denied further access to even more sensible parts, Jon ignored the other mans tense moan and pressed his parted lips on the large bulge that had developed under the fabric. Robbs breaths turned into panting and Jon could see him grabbing the sheets in the agony of kindling desire. It was then that Jon felt Robbs hands on his shoulders, trying to pull him up and he yielded to it just to feel Robb reversing the position again and placing himself on top once more. He hastened to reach down and unlace Jons pants and his smouldering, bold gaze told Jon that he wouldn't stop now even if the bed would literally go up into fire. There was a bit more of the demanding harshness he had imagined so often in Robbs touches and caresses now, his fingers boring into Jons flesh, his nails scratching the delicate skin of his back, but still Robb was so much more gentle and passionate than Jon had ever imagined. His erection had become painfully hard and Jon was squirming under the kisses Robb was pouring out over his whole upper body and it was only a small release when he had finally managed to kick of his pants entirely. Slightly more graceful, Robb removed his own trousers and for the first time since they had shared a bath tub as little boys, they were able to absorb each others' bodies in their full naked glory. Jon admired Robbs toned muscular body, broader and sturdier, less lean than his own and when Robb lay down on him, his throbbing member pressing against Jons stomach, he pulled this adorable body in a tight embrace, wishing they could get even closer so that their silhouettes would melt and they could become one. Finally Robb reached down between them and closed his hand around Jons aching hardness and began to rub and stroke it in slow rhythmic movements. It took all of Jons restraint not to come right away from the burning hot sensation that was surging in him under Robbs vibrant hand, and he pressed his forehead against his half brothers collarbone. When he thought he couldn't take it much longer, he pressed his hand against Robbs chest, forcing him in a sitting position and quickly sat up himself so that they were kneeling opposite of each other. He didn't want to be the one to finish first, he wanted to make Robb groan and wince with pleasure first, he wanted him to whisper his name in ecstasy and light a fire that no river and no lake would ever be able to put out. So it was Jon now, that reached down to take the other mans hot, hard erection and began to gently knead it with one hand. With the other hand he grabbed the back of Robbs head, pushing him into a violent kiss, tongues intertwining and teeth colliding until he heard ta loud moaning in his mouth and felt Robb withdrawing hastily for air.

"Jon…" his voice was so husky that Jon hardly understood him. He intensified his massage seeing in Robbs burning blue eyes that he was close, and with a few more tight strokes and a little pressure of his thumb on the tip of Robbs phallus he brought him over the edge and felt a sharp pain in his shoulder where Robb bit his delicate flesh to suppress a cry of release to a throaty groan. The feeling combined with the warm, wet dripping of semen on his hand again was almost enough to make him reach his own climax, but he bit his lip and tried to distract himself by flashing Robb a cocky grin. The other man was still panting but took no time to recover. Instead he pushed Jon down on his back abruptly and without a word covered Jons penis with his fervent wet mouth. There was no time for Jon to feel surprised for he could feel a climax with this incredible sensation welling up quickly. He wanted it to last longer, but after the arousal he had already felt after their first kiss, it only took a few strong sucking movements and Jon could feel the electrifying sensation of a violent orgasm washing over his body, reaching even into his fingertips. He let out a breathless whimper and came into Robbs mouth, who gulped heavily.

For a while they lay there together in total silence, enjoying the soft aftershocks of the quaking peak of their union, until Robb turned his head, still resting on Jons stomach, to smile at him blissfully. He crawled up to him and lay down beside him, faces only inches apart, their noses touching. Jon could smell the scent of his own body coming from Robbs lips, when he whispered:

"Why have we waited so long to do this?"

Jon sighed.

"Because I have to leave soon." he replied and hated himself for bringing this up, for remembering and destroying the perfect moment of togetherness. He had been blind and deaf to anything but this man he loved so desperately for a short time but their moment was over and cold reality grabbed them again with long, bony fingers. Robbs eyes spoke of utmost anguish, but the rest of his face kept the smile.

"So, we still have a few days left." He reached out to caress Jons cheek lightly and ran his fingers across his lips. "Plenty of time to catch up." He laughed quietly blinking away the wet shimmer that had been gathering in his eyes. And Jon followed his example and smiled as well. After all, there were still days, maybe even more than a week before the King would arrive and take Lord Stark to Kings Landing. Maybe, he thought, he might even reconsider his decision to take the black, although he knew what had happened tonight could never go on. What they had done could not be undone, all the walls were torn. Leaving, Jon knew it in his heart although he pushed the thought away as far as he could at least for the moment, was the only way to make it bearable and to keep the fire at bay before it could burn a kingdom down.


	6. Life is Beautiful

Note: Here we go. This was originally intended to be the last chapter, but I've been thinking about doing some kind of sequel o maybe even continuing for a few more chapters. Let me know if you'd like to read on and I think I'll be depending it on that. So, this chapter is much about Robbs thoughts and feeling and not much action. Hope you don't think it's boring! It's also kind of kitschy, I think. :-D

Music: Life is beautiful – Vega 4

The following few days were the most beautiful and most painful in Robbs life so far. The day after that unforgettable night, when they had finally told, and shown, each other how they felt, his heart was lighter and at the same time heavier than ever. That night, they had lain on the bed in the dimly lit room, the air thick and warm with their body heat, holding each other as closely as they could. What had happened had changed everything and nothing. When their father went to Kings Lading in a few days, Jon would still be leaving as well to become a sworn brother of the Nights Watch and Robb would become the lord of Winterfell and would have plenty of duties to perform. The thought of being separated, most of all the thought of the very moment they would have to say goodbye, triggered a tearing pain in Robbs chest and made desperation well up in him like a bitter drink his stomach didn't agree with. He gulped it down. They had come to a silent agreement, and Robb intended to abide. If they only had these few days to be together, they would not spoil them with gloomy thoughts about the future. They had both agreed to this the night before, without words, while lying in the pleasurable warmth of each others' arms and after that, they had assuaged the almost unquenchable thirst for each others' body again. And in the morning, only a very few hours after Robb had snuck out of Jons room and into his own bed to not arouse suspicion should anyone look for him in the morning, they had met in the old tower no one ever went in to indulge in this joy again. It was different each time, slower or bolder, harsher and more demanding, testing their likings and limits and getting to know their naked bodies as well as they had known their characters, their hearts and souls since they were boys. They could simply not get enough of each other now they had brought their relationship to this level, and every second not spent with Jon seemed like a wasted second to Robb. There was a dangerous fire inside him that was already searing his insides and could easily burn his and other peoples' lives to ashes. He had noticed this morning, when they had all still been together so jauntily, making fun of Brans non existing archery skills under the watchful but benevolent looks of Lord Eddard, how hard it was to resist the urge to stand improperly close to Jon, to hide the idiotic grin that forced the corners of his mouth to stretch from one ear to another whenever Jon showed the smallest of smiles, to push the rebellious strand of black hair out of his wistful eyes whenever it was blown there by the harsh, nippy north wind. It had taken all the restraint he could muster not to touch it with his hand, caressing the soft, pale skin just to see a light blush appear on those distinctive cheekbones. There was not much that could make the pallid skin of Jon Snow shimmer with colour, not even the cold air of the late summer snow that had fallen over night and cloaked the world with a glittering, thin mantle of white that would be melted as soon as the first beams of sun appeared on the horizon, but Robb had discovered several ways in which _he_ could manage the task. Thinking of only one made his own cheeks grow hot and sparked off the unmistakable tingly sensation of a hopeless infatuation. Noticing that he must be looking like an idiot standing in the yard grinning to himself from ear to ear, waiting for Theon who had asked him for an hour of practicing with the swords this afternoon, he felt a little embarrassed. His love for Jon was deep and unconditional, it was honest and overwhelmingly forceful and desperate and hopeless and he had already accepted these facts some time ago. But now that the physical component had sealed their unspoken promise, feelings had accrued that were on one hand beautiful and exciting, but on the other deemed Robb to be silly and shallow and somehow insufficient. Whenever Jon appeared around a corner, Robb began to feel hot, his hands turned sweaty and he felt as though he had missed a step while going down the stairs. He had had this feeling before, but always for girls then, and he knew it was usually an enjoyable experience that had hitherto faded again after a few weeks of easy flirtation. Never had he experienced this kind of feeling along with the profound love he felt for Jon. Actually, his love for Jon had always been far away from anything else he felt for anyone and it was clear at least by the fact that he had never been attracted to another man except Jon. It had always been just Jon.

The days went by much too quickly and Robb seized every possible moment to grab Jon by the collar of his shirt to pull him into a dark, lonely corner and steal a kiss or two. They met in the evening after dinner in Jons or Robbs room and soon he wasn't able to sneak back to his own bed or have the heart to watch Jon sneak off to his and so they slept together, naked skin on skin, their limbs entangled, in one bed the whole night. Robb was assuming that Theon, who was often with them when they went for rides though the forest, practiced archery with Bran in the yard or enjoyed the last beams of the late summer sun on high, windy spots in the hills around Winterfell, was starting to suspect something, but somehow he couldn't find it in his heart to worry about that much. He knew they had to be careful, that, no matter how natural and right this relationship felt for them, they had to keep it a secret because no one would ever understand. The Targaryans had always had the custom to marry their sisters and brothers to keep their bloodline pure and there were rumours about the Lannisters as well, but it had never been like this in the north. Also romantic relations between two men were, if not an impossibility, at least something that was mostly met with skepticism, hostility and mockery. Even _if _his noble father could understand and accept the bond between Jon and Robb, it would destroy his reputation and give him a hard time to be respected by his men, left alone at the court of King Robert. Besides, his mother would never tolerate it. And maybe, Robb thought, it was all for the best. Maybe these unsurpassable feelings he cherished for his half-brother could only be this strong, because love was a thousand times sweeter when enjoyed along with the bitter_. Or maybe not_, he thought, jaundiced.

The days went by and the king came, the day of the departure was drawing nearer and nearer. During the feast in honour of their royal guests, Robbs mother refused to have Jon on the table with them, which made Robb angry and sad. She wouldn't even have him in the room to visit Bran, after their little brother had fallen from Winterfells highest tower and was lying in his bed unconsciously and it was uncertain whether he would ever wake up again. Robb and Jon still tried to spend every possible minute together, comforting each other that Bran would be fine, talking about the strange and disturbing words of the deserter of the nights watch their father had put to death a few days before and loving each other again and again, but never a word about the upcoming parting was spoken. It wasn't until the night before Jon would leave, that Robb came to Jons room and they both knew they had run out of all possibilities to delay.

Robb entered quietly without knocking, like he always did, and found Jon sitting on the bed in silence, staring out of the window deep in thought. He crossed his arms before his chest and sighed heavily. What did you say when the person you loved so hopelessly was leaving forever? He had been strangely numb inside all day and was confused that he didn't feel like crying. His heart was empty, his head was blank. When Jon turned his head to look at him, they both understood that words couldn't make anything right. Instead, Robb walked over to the bed and sat down beside him, leaning his head against his half brothers shoulder and clasping his hand.

"When you go, I die." He heard it come out of his mouth hoarsely, realizing that it might sound trite and mawkish, but it was what he felt. It felt like a simple fact and he was sure it would come true, he was sure once Jon had mounted on his horse and his silhouette had vanished on the horizon, there would be nothing but a tearing pain in his chest and then his life would end.

Robb had always been more open when it came to expressing his feelings. Maybe it was because he had experienced so much less rejection in his life than Jon that he was less afraid to voice his sentiments. Jon said nothing but pulled Robb into a desperately tight hug, ruffling his dark locks and kissing him on the soft spot on his neck, right under the ear. When they broke apart to look into each others' eyes, Jons were already swimming with tears. Where Robb was easily putting his feelings in words, Jon had always had more trouble hiding them in his actions.

"I'm not going away forever. We'll be able to meet occasionally. I can come visit." Jon replied, sounding like he needed to persuade himself rather than Robb, his voice thick with suppressed sobs. Robb noticed Jon straightening up a little, wiping a tear from his face that had stolen out from the corner of his eye quickly. "And next time I visit you'll be a lord! The girls will be all over you." Jon managed a wry smile.

"Yeah, that'll be great." Rob said, rolling his eyes but picking up the attempt to lighten the tone thankfully. Beside him Jon was starting to shake in silent sobs as if trying to gulp all the anger and frustration, the yearning and despair down in one big lump but chocking on the attempt. Robb gently placed one of his big, strong hands on Jons cheek and stared into his eyes. He felt miserable, seeing him hurt like this and wondered why he could not mourn what felt like the death of their love the same way. He knew the grief was in him and a soft but constant pressure in his stomach and a slight sting in his chest forebode that it was gathering inside him just to break free all at once in some unanticipated moment. When would the hurt kick in?

"I love you." He just said.

After that, the enjoyed the passion of making love to each other a last time, long and tender. Then they curled up into each others' arms on the bed and Robb lay there, inhaling the sweet scent of the man he loved so much, feeling the warmth radiating off his skin, felt the softness of his hair and listened closely to the low beating of his heart, as if trying to memorize it. As soon as Jon was fast asleep, he wound out of his embrace carefully and left the room as quietly as he could, trying not to trouble the tight hopefully untroubled sleep of Jon Snow, whose girlishly long lashed fluttered scarcely noticeable and he went into his own bed, not sleeping for a single second for the rest of the night. And no matter how much he wished it wouldn't, morning came and it was time to say goodbye. Everyone was tense and gloomy because of the imminent departure and Robb felt slightly guilty that he couldn't be more troubled by the fact that he would have to say goodbye to his sisters and his father as well and that Bran still hadn't woken up, but he could only think about what to say to Jon. But when the moment came, they were surrounded by so many other people that there was no room for intimacy surpassing the limits of brotherly love and they exchanged only a few words about Bran.

"Next time I see you you'll be all in black!" Robb brought himself to say with a small smile and thought of the way Jons soft, warm lips felt on his skin.

"It was always my colour." The reply seemed casual, but Robb could see it in Jons eyes, in the way his gaze lingered on the little carved wolf pendant that Robb had started to wear openly, now that he would need to have something to feel close to Jon so desperately. They hugged tightly and Robb suddenly realized why the pain had been so graciously bearable until now. Until this very moment, and maybe not even now, his heart had not realized what all this meant. His mind knew Jon was leaving, but since he had shared this first, mindblowing kiss, his heart had been floating in a bubble of happiness and while his thoughts had told him Jon was leaving, his heart hadn't been able to feel it. It made him tremble with terror to think of what might lie ahead of him when realization hit him. Jon had already mounted his horse and the group of people bound for the Nights Watch started to move, and then, much to suddenly, he was gone, the faint image of Jons pale but pretty face twisted by a sorrowful, bravely simpered smile still lingering before Robbs burning eyes.

He felt oddly relived. The tears would surely come when he would be alone in his room, the responsibility of being a lord now weighing down heavily on his shoulder. He already felt more alone than ever in his life, but for now he also felt he would live. He would surely not be fine for a long time, and it would be complicated, hell, he didn't even know if and how he would make it, but he knew that somehow he had to. He'd let the monsters see him smile even if his heart would beat and break. He'd live until he died.

It wasn't until hours later, alone in the darkness of his room where the sheets of his bed still wore a faint smell of Jons skin, that Robb Stark learned what loss really meant.

END


	7. Fix You

Note: Thanks very much for all the nice reviews! So this is a short one and can be read as some kind of sequel. I think I'll do another Chapter from Jons POV, but I had to do this short chapter after I heard "Fix You" by Coldplay, which I think fits the situation so perfectly! Ultimately, this wouldn't go out of my head until I had written it down. :-D

Music: Fix You – Coldplay

Days turned into weeks, the weeks into months and the months piled up until, even if it seemed to Robb ages must have come and gone between that last embrace and the last warm touch of Jons skin on his, a little more than a year and a half had passed. The first weeks after Jons departure had been the most painful experience in his entire life. He had done well for some hours after he had seen his half brother ride out of the Gates of Winterfell, but that night all the despair and grief had crashed in on him like he had been hiding in a dark cave of desolation and all the walls had started to crumble in on him, crushing him with their weight and displacing all air so he felt he was bound to be choked by his loneliness. It had gotten easier over the months, at least during the days, to distract himself with other matters, although he would still wake up, sticky with sweat and desperately gasping for air every night after dreaming of Jon. Sometimes he saw his brothers dead body lying in the snow, his skin frozen blue from the biting cold, sometimes he saw him standing underneath, looking down on him from some kind of pedestal, his body being squelched by an unbearable pressure on his head and a painful weight on his shoulders. In this dreams he often tried to cry to Jon for help but his voice was reduced to a hoarse whisper whenever he tried to raise it and Jon, even though Robb could see him trying, never reached more than the tip of his boots. When he woke, he was unable to fall asleep for the rest of the night and he lay in the dark, wondering if Jon was still missing Robb as much as he was missing him after all the things he must have been through. His own feelings hadn't yielded an inch. After all the nights, after all the battles, after avenging his fathers death even after he had been made the King in the North, there was still only the one person he longed for. He had been with women since Jon had left, mostly during the hardship of war, trying to lighten the tension a little that consumed his thoughts and strength. At one time he had even believed he might have fallen in love a little with a woman he had met when she was attending wounded men on the battlefield, but the feeling soon subsided. He had felt angry and ashamed that the only way he could take pleasure in being with a woman, was to think about Jon, picture his face, imagine his smell and pretend it were his lips he was kissing. It was not like he didn't enjoy the soft, curvy bodies of the beautiful women that were melting under his touch, now more than ever since the battles and the hardship of the last year had hardened his body, strengthened his heart and had turned him into the epitome of a beautiful, vigorous young king in his prime. It was just that they couldn't give him even a tiny spark of the fire that had filled his body and soul and burned him from the inside when he had loved Jon. So when Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell and King in the North checked his reflection in the black water of the small pond in the gods wood nervously, he found his face to look grim and dark, with first fine worry lines starting to loom on the smooth skin of his forehead and an unbecoming tendency to press his lips to a line in order to acquire a grave and kingly expression. He sighed and ran his finger through the thick dark curls, messing them up a little in order to make it look less like a crown had just been resting on them and felt his heart speed up in anticipation of the meeting that lay before him. Moments ago one of his men had informed him that a rider all in black had been picked out on the horizon, heading south through the snow into the direction of Winterfell. Robbs heart had missed one or two beats at the news and, struggling to keep his composure, he had ordered the man off to make sure everything was prepared for the arrival of the kings brother who was a noble ranger of the nights watch now.

With a last critical look on his face, Robb hurried to resume his place on the throne that had been put up for him upon his return to Winterfell, after the battle against Joffreys armies had been won and a treaty of independence of the north had been signed with King Stannis, Joffreys successor to the Iron Throne. He would have given anything to be able to just overthrow the tedious procedure of royal welcoming and just meet Jon halfway, tackle him of his horse with a bone crushing hug and then kiss him until they both died happily from suffocation. But rules were rules and from being king he had learned that people expected you to act like one. He hoped Jon would understand. On the other hand, he was sure Jon would. Ever since Robb had returned from his campaign against Joffrey, and ever since Jon had safely returned from his long and dangerous mission north of the wall, they had been able to write and done so as often as they could. And often they had confirmed by more, but mostly by less explicit words that both their feelings had remained the same. Robb knew Jon, like himself, had gotten what he wanted from that painful but right decision to leave back then, but neither of them had gotten what they needed to be happy. Maybe they would never be and maybe all their love would go to waste, but Robb knew he would always be too much in love to ever let it go. No matter what happened. And from the rumours he had heard and the letters from Jon, wuite a lot had already happened to Jon. He had done and seen things so cruel they easily measured up to Robbs own experiences and he had proven himself to be a virtuous and capable warrior. Robb felt sorry and proud at the same time. Like himself, the past year must have left his scars on Jon Snow, but he had finally found his way back home and Robb was resolved to expel the cold from his half brothers bones by igniting the fire that had burned in them so brightly once. He would try to fix him to his best abilities. And yet all the resolve couldn't calm the boiling of Robbs blood, couldn't cool the heat that was welling up in his body when he heard a servant announce Jons arrival. He felt excited like a little boy about to go on his first ride on a real horse and shifted on his throne uneasily, hoping the anxiety he was showing was generally interpreted as the joy of a brother being reunited with his beloved sibling, while at the same time wishing to be able to break free from the ceremonial cage that was pressing his reunion with Jon into the form and seize of a usual visit of any guest to Winterfell.

But all the worries were wiped out at once when the door opened and a figure appeared, bringing in a whiff of cold air, snow whirling in along with it. Winter had finally come and it had brought the snow home to Winterfell.


	8. No Light

Note: So, this definitely going to be the last chapter! I just also wanted to give an insight in Jons feelings on the return after one and a half years as well. Besides the song "No Light" by Florence and the Machine kind of forced me to use it in this story. :-D

Music: No Light – Florence and the Machine

As Jon was riding through the thick snow that piled up in front the big gate of Winterfell, he felt excited and expectant. Although it hadn't been more than a year and a half, to him it felt like a thousand years must have passed since he had last crossed the archway of stone and entered the walls that surrounded the settlement around the compact buildings of what was now his brothers' royal hall. Back then nobody had taken notice when Jon had passed either on horseback or by foot, for the sight of Lord Eddards sons roving around town, trying to escape their lordly duties was not unusual. Now every head turned for him. People stared openly or shot secret glances, but almost everybody seemed to try to catch a look on the lost bastard son, who was now a hero of the nights watch returning home to see his half brother, who was now a king. Jon tried to ignore the stares and in order to calm himself from the giddiness that had started to make his thoughts and visions swim with anticipation with every mile he approached Winterfell, he concentrated on _not _thinking of Robb and instead wondered at the changes his old home had gone through since he had left. From what Jon could distinguish through the falling snow and the masses of white that had already blanketed the houses and stables in glittering coats, the city was flourishing. On some houses attachments from wood or even stone had been made, other places that had been mended. The north seemed to be reviving under the reign of their newly made, young and capable king and although winter had come along with this takeover, it had brought spring to the hard and ponderous life in this raw country. But then again, Jon had never doubted Robb was born to be a powerful leader who would do his best to bring contentment and happiness to the home of his people and the northerners had always been able to get along well, even in the longest and hardest winter. He forced himself not to think of the horrible things winter could and most likely would one day bring to them from north of the wall. The developments of Wildlings and other creatures beyond the wall were an unsettling business he had to deal with every day, he didn't want the thoughts of things he couldn't change at the moment spoil the long expected reunion with his brother, his friend, yes… his truelove still. It felt strange to even think of Robb as such, it had always been left unspoken what he was to Jon. They had confessed each other their love, but Jon had never told Robb what he had become painfully aware of during long hours in the biting frost, during dark nights in a lonely, unspeakably cold place, namely what loving him meant in its' fullness. Robb had always been the hole in Jons head, the empty space in his bed at night, the silence when Jons friends had jested and laughed, he had been his head and heart wherever Jon had been.

By the time he had dismounted his horse and made his way over to the entrance of the hall, his heart was pounding violently in his chest and he had to restrain himself from just rushing in to finally embrace what he had missed for so long. He suddenly feared that Robb wouldn't recognize him. A silly thought after only a year and a half since he hadn't changed much on the outside. He had gotten a little more scrawny maybe, his face and body had taken a few scars, he had started to look less like his father and more like his uncle Benjen with even longer, more gloomy features that showed a certain resilience. For a second he thought about turning and running so they could keep the memory of their last days together unspoiled and intact forever, but when a servant opened the door for him and the icy north wind pushed into his back, nudging him through the door softly, all these thoughts vanished and he entered docilely. For a moment he couldn't see anything in the shady hall after the bright white of the snow outside and he thought he must look rather foolish, standing there with snow in his tousled hair, cheeks reddened form the cold, squinting into the room like a half blind man. But after a few seconds of tenseness his eyes got used to the dimmed daylight seeping in from few high windows in the walls and he could make out that a big throne had been placed on the far end of the hall where the families table had used to stand. And he could see the man sitting on it.

For a moment he forgot all protocol and manners and just stood there, taking in the familiar figure of Robb Stark, who looked more august and regal than ever with his muscular, athletic body clad in fine linen of the grey and white colours of his house and a stark but noble golden crown resting on his rich dark locks, radiating a strange, transfiguring light that lit up his face. To Jon he looked like he had sprung from a dream, so surreal somehow. When Robbs face lightened at the sight of him and an overtly blissful grin stretched these full lips - Jon had forgotten how full they really were - to a display of utter beatitude, the spell was broken. Jon himself could no longer suppress a broad and, as he assumed, foolish looking grin when his half brother rose from his throne. He had just made a few much too quick steps and was just about to drop on one knee when he was stopped by Robbs body crashing against his own, tying him up in the most forceful embrace he had ever experienced. He felt Robbs strong hand twisting in his hair and pushing his face even closer into his neck. The embrace seemed to last for ages but Jon had no desire to break the contact, breathing in Robbs sweet familiar smell as deeply as he could an almost feeling like no time had passed at all since they had last had the chance to be so close together. A discrete cough from some corner of the room brought both of them back into reality and finally Robb let go, one hand still resting softly on his half brothers cheeks. And for the first time after all they had done, after all the time and distance that had been between them, they were together again. Jon could hardly decide where to rest his eyes on first, these sensual lips he had longed to kiss again for so long, the strong, bearded jawline he wished to trace with his fingers or the high, noble forehead he languished to feel pressed to his own in an ardent embrace. But it were Robbs eyes that caught his roaming glance in an instant and he lost himself in the smouldering blue of his intense gaze. Jon could read whole books from the look of those eyes and he was relieved to see the same burning desire and love along with pure happiness about seeing him again. But there was also something alarming in them for something vitally important was missing. _No light_, Jon thought sadly and realized that riding into battles and wearing a crown must have taken a toll on his half brother after all. The zest for life that used to sparkle in his eyes was gone. _No light in those bright blue eyes_.

"Jon!" it was all Robb brought out, sounding relieved. Obviously becoming aware again of the fact that they were not alone, he slapped Jon on the back brotherly. "How have you been?"

"Well, your Grace." Jon grinned broadly when he noticed Robb shooting him a secret frown at the formal address.

"Maester," Robb addressed an elderly man standing in the back. Jon supposed he must have been the one coughing earlier. He had heard about the death of Maester Luwin. "I'll show my brother to his chambers myself. And I'm not hearing anybody until tomorrow." The Maesters forehead wrinkled slightly, but he confirmed his kings' order with a graceful nod. "Come on!" Robb smiled widely at Jon. "We have a lot of catching up to do!"

"You look well." Jon said quietly when they had left the throne hall through the door that Jon knew led into the contorted little rooms and hallways leading to the private rooms of the Stark family. He became aware that now that their father was gone, Robb of course had taken the chambers of the Lord of Winterfell. It hurt to think about his father and he pushed the thought aside and went back to searching for the right words to say after being away for so long. Being with Robb had felt as right and natural as ever from the first second of their reunion, but where did you start when you had so much to say? "The crown becomes you."

Robb smiled wryly and responded by taking it off his head. "You can have it if you want." He looked at him suggestively and they both laughed, though Jon had not missed the serious undertone in his brothers joke. Robb may have been born a natural leader but, just like it had been with their father, the responsibility was weighing heavy on his shoulders. When Jon touched Robbs back softly with the palm of his hand, they both instinctively quickened their pace and reached the door to Jons rooms after only on more small flight of stairs and a short passageway. Robb was giving him the rooms that used to belong to Catelyn, who had returned to live in Riverrun after the death of her husband. Robb had written about how she had taken Bran and Rikkon with her against his wishes, but he hadn't stopped her. There had been enough fighting. It made Jon grin to see that Robb had chosen his guest rooms to be right next to his own chambers and he wondered vaguely if the connecting door was still there. Robbs hasty movement, when he ushered him into the room broke his chain of thoughts but enhanced his gin. The door was banged behind them and before Jon could even take one look around the room, he felt Robbs powerful arms closing around his torso when he hugged him intensely from behind. He could feel his hot breath on his neck.

"I have missed you!"

In response Jon could do nothing but turn around and stare into the other mans face, almost expecting him to dissolve into nothingness every moment. He told him.

"I'm not even sure you're real yet." He said, feeling confused by the masses of emotions that were surging in him. He decided to ask for the thing that troubled him most. "You look unhappy."

Robb snorted bitterly and raised his eyebrows at him. Jon understood the look that said: _just look at yourself._"We both knew it would be like this, but it's the way it has to be. I think I'm going to take a wife soon." Robb sighed heavily. "People are already talking, wondering if something is wrong with me. I have expectations to comply, duties to perform…" he trailed of, biting his lip as if suppressing tears.

"I know. I've missed you too." Jon finally replied to the confession. "But you don't need to get married today. Neither tomorrow, as it is. I'm free to stay up to a week. They'll be expecting me to report back to duty then." There was nothing much he could say to make this easier. Not for himself or for Robb, who knew he didn't need Jons absolution for taking a wife and that Jon on the other hand couldn't provide him with any resolution or revelation to change anything. This was their life and would be until they died. Maybe both of them had secretly hoped the violence of their feelings would subside one day. "You can't choose what stays and what fades away." He added and Robb caught the implication. He heaved another grave sigh.

"Let's not have this conversation tonight." Robb decided and pulled Jon closer to his body, faces now nearly touching. When they kissed all cold and sadness were driven from Jons bones like shadows from the earth at the rise of the sun. It was what it was, he thought. They had been boys of summer and now winter had come.

Note: Thanks a lot for all your reviews. It kept me going and made me happy to read that someone is enjoying my writing. You're awesome. :-D


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